


Entwined at Every Point we Meet

by macabrecabra



Series: Overwatch Rising [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Companion Piece, Grief and Guilt, Hints of Shipping, More characters to come, Multi, Spin-Off, but stories can be read easily as stand alones, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7267414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabrecabra/pseuds/macabrecabra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every story has a hundred others weaving in and out, building towards the climax where everything comes into one. Sometimes it is beyond the scene in front of us that something else could be starting ... </p><p>(A series of stand alone spin-offs of my larger story, "Diverging at the Point We Met c:)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entwined at Every Point we Meet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of side stories that tie into my longer story "Diverging at the Point We Met" featuring the spotlight on other characters. Side stories that I feel need to be written and told, but don't mesh into the flow of the larger story. Each chapter here can be read as a stand alone!
> 
> Knowledge of "Diverging at the Point we Met" is NOT needed. I've written these in a way that allow you to pick up and read it as you wish and vice versa! You don't have to read this to understand "Diverging at the Point we Met" any better. They both can work well on their own, but if you read both, they supplement each other still very nicely. Notes will be at the END of the chapters from this point forward. Summaries at the start!
> 
> This deals with some headcannons I have. For angsty sake and to make sense of things more as Overwatch canon seems so vague XD
> 
> ________________________________________________________________
> 
> Hanzo and McCree have a little talk about family, friends, and touching up some little old philosophy on what a body needs to feel whole.  
> (takes place at same time as Chapter Seven at "Diverging at the Point we Met)  
> (short, broken up version here for those who need it c: https://macabrecabra.tumblr.com/post/146274566211/mccree-was-a-man-of-simple-tastes-and-simple )

McCree was a man of simple tastes and simple manners. Not much really stressed him to be perfectly honest. True situations came up, things could get intense, but he had learned long ago to take things in, mull it over like a cow slowly chewing its cud, and let the issue go rather than lose sleep over it.

Life was too short to get caught up in all the could have beens in the past after all.

Still, that easy-going attitude didn't always translate well into friendships or social interactions. Some people found it soothing while others found the blunt, non-committal attitude not the emotional cup of tea they were looking for and eventually cut things off, moving on to the next field. McCree's friendships have always been a revolving door, a fact he used to think was a problem always with him.

It had taken years to figure out that being who he was wasn't any problem that was his falt and that sometimes it really fell on the people he was with.

Given those facts though, the cowboy wasn't sure he was the right man for the job in approaching the elder Shimada but he would at least give it a shot. Shooting blind wasn't wise, but with enough goading, even he would be giving it a try. 

As he entered the cafeteria, he was glad to see his assumption that Hanzo was taking lunch had paid off. The man tended to eat later than everyone else to be left alone and today it seemed the Japanese man was having some sort of noodle by the looks of it. Engrossed in his food, Hanzo didn't even notice McCree standing in the doorway. The bounty hunter took a deep breath, pushing his hat up some before making his way over to the table, praying he could pull something off and not completely be out of his league here. 

Quietly he took a seat in front of Hanzo, the archer glancing up, between bites of his food with a slight arch of his eyebrow in question but didn't speak, only returning back to his meal. McCree leaned back some, flicking his gaze to focus on the faded old posters hung up in the cafeteria from a long forgotten time. The same old health focus posters about balanced meals and the like using figures from Overwatch as if they were experts on the subject. Having Morrison declaring “Vegetables make you into a real hero” still got a smile from McCree every time he saw it. He recalled Reyes being very grateful that being in Blackwatch meant he got spared being the embarrassing public service hero and McCree couldn't have agree more. He was more than certain he would have been put on all the campaigns to quiet smoking and on the patch, slowly dying for a smoke if that had been the case. Tearing his gaze away from the poster, he turned his attention to the problem at hand. 

Really he wasn't sure how to approach it but h suppose just saying something to start a conversation was as good a start as any.

“We missed you at training,” McCree commented idly, leaning back in his chair, We are really lacking in people who can help maintain a solid defense,”

“I am not part of Overwatch,” Hanzo responded, not taking his eyes off his meal as he used a pair of chopsticks to pick up another bite.

McCree gave a slight shrug, “The Overwatch that was is long gone and we are making something new and as such, you've been given an invitation to join. We need all the help we can get,”

Hanzo frowned, looking away before taking a bite silently, hunching his shoulders some. McCree almost grimaced. Another brooder. He was surprised Hanzo and Reaper hadn't hung about with how both seemed to be content to stew in their own miseries. Probably the only reason was Genji and Reaper were clearly becoming an item which probably had put Hanzo on the hate list on principle for now.

“You've got some mighty fine skills with a bow. Honestly took me by surprise to see. That isn't the sort of weapon you see in an age of guns,” McCree commented, letting his eyes trail over the posters again.

“It is a more dignified and silent weapon,” Hanzo answered, setting down his chopsticks over the empty bowl, “It has been the weapon of choice in my family for generations. The art of infiltration, marksmanship, and strategy have been all my clan had needed to thrive,”

“You got a few fancy tricks though and impressed Reinhardt a great deal to the point he is going to be actively sending you recruitment flyers if you don't watch it,” McCree gave a lazy grin, “Personally I would like someone else with a half decent aim to join. Aiming isn't the strong point of most of those favoring guns. Or eve taking care of their guns,” McCree allowed himself a slight grimace as he recalled how Reaper just threw his guns away. Like throwing away babies out the window in McCree's opinion.

Hanzo just flicked his gaze to the cowboy before sitting back, preparing to get to his feet, “This is not my fight nor my place,”

“If that was the case, you would have already left. Something about all this is keeping you lurking in the doorway,” McCree rose to his own feet, not about to let the Japanese archer get away to easily, at least not without a good old fashion pestering. 

The archer was silent for a moment, frowning and eyes staring hard at nothing in particular. McCree would have ventured to say he looked lost in his own mind, in some battle with an inner demon that was snarling behind those intense eyes, “Why I have lingered here is of little concern. I will depart soon,” Hanzo responded, his tone steely, firm, and with a conviction that almost made McCree believe his words.

Almost. 

In Blackwatch, McCree had known a lot of men and women, ex-cons and gang members, who faced everything with a black and white view of the world. There was good and there was bad. You didn't do anything in the grey area. Everything they said had always been said with a belief that their words were true but in their eyes, their eyes always belayed that uncertainty of the actions they were ordered to do. McCree could see that same look in Hanzo's eyes even if the rest of the archer's body language left no doubt of his beliefs.

The cowboy raised a hand to tilt up his hat, giving a small smile, “well, if you aren't departing anytime soon, I wouldn't mind testing my aim with a gun against your aim with an arrow. Slow day and I know the boredom can really get to a body and you look like you need something to focus on,” 

Hanzo frowned slightly, brow furrowed in thought before he gave a slow nod, “Fine. We can have this little demonstration but I sense that is not what you wish to speak about,”

“I think that is a given. I like talking about guns and gun-slinging abilities and would love to learn about all the finer points of archery, but I think we can keep things more casual. Swap stories about friends and family or whatever else comes up,”

 

There a sudden surge of tension in Hanzo at the word “family” and his frown turned to an all out scowl, his eyes narrowed to near slits. The expression was almost angry, but McCree could see the bitterness and sorrow there, “Family. I do not have anything to say about family,”

McCree didn't respond at first, carefully turning over his next words, mulling them like a cow ruminating before he gave a small chuckle, “how about if I tag the most targets on the first try, you tell me exactly what you think about family really,” 

Hanzo arched an eyebrow at McCree's words, following the cowboy out of the cafeteria as he lead to their destination, “That is an odd request,” Hanzo commented, “Why would you want to know that?”

“Because the only reason you are sticking around is because you got family here, if you want to admit it or not,” McCree gave a sly smile, “I'm ex-Blackwatch. Reading people is part of the game and there is only one person in the world I can't read and that's the man who trained me,”

That earned a slight twitch of the corner of the Japanese man's mouth, “I should have guessed but you are wrong in that assumption,”

“Maybe,” McCree gave a hearty laugh, “But I'll bet on my uncle's grave I'm in the right county at least to why you are here,”

He lead the way through the darken halls of Overwatch, out of the more work oriented portion and into the tourist side fo the facility. The change was immediate with the walls going from rather basic to showy metal with the Overwatch symbol plastered every few steps, everything loom more fancy and the base more cartoonish even. 

Old faded posters still clung to the wall but McCree didn't bother to really look. There wouldn't be any of himself. A poster featuring Blackwatch at all was unheard of in order to try and keep as much a cover on their identities. The literal unsung heroes of Overwatch. McCree couldn't help the smile on his face at those thoughts. It was always easier to smile than to frown, even if he felt that same old edge of sadness at how everything had turned out. The whole fall of Overwatch and the infighting in Blackwatch had been like watching a family fall apart once. 

Probably why he was trying to keep his distance as a new family was forming up all around him. It wasn't a loss he wanted to sample twice. A fight he was losing as he got pulled further and further into things. 

“So what will you give me when I win?” Hanzo asked idly as they continued out into the main atrium, the crunch of old broken tile beneath their feet.

McCree gave a small glance up as he thought he caught the flash of something green but shrugged it off as just his imagination. This old place always seemed to mess with his head, “What do you want? Anything in particular about this old cowboy you want to know?”

Hanzo gave an almost amused look, although it was a touch more dismissive, “You seemed to think high of yourself if you think that there is anything about you I would find of interest. I'm more interested in that dark one, the one my...” he paused as if the next word was almost difficult to say, “my brother is with,”

“You are talking about Gabriel Reyes and all I can tell you is he's from Los Angeles, mother is an immigrant from Mexico with his grandparents. He is multilingual in English, Spanish, and some Indigenous language of his grandparents and mother, and that when you think you know about him anymore, he tends to surprise you,” McCree answered, giving a chuckle as they exited the building, “But come on now, has to be some burning question,”

Hanzo arched an eyebrow, regarding McCree silently for a few brief moments before turning his gaze back ahead to the barely lit up grounds in front of the base that once hosted the outdoor tourist activities for the base, “Why are you so interested in knowing about my family or about me at all?” He finally said at length.

McCree gave a chuckle, reaching to tug the brim of his had down some, “You must be pretty secure in thinking you will win to have that as your question. Practically a throw away question,”

The archer responded only by taking out an arrow from his quiver in one smooth motion, examining the point of it, “I am confident that I can overcome your aim. The art of archery is far more graceful and complex than simply pointing and pulling a trigger,”

“My uncle would shed a tear at hearing you call it just pointing and shooting,” McCree gave a chuckle, coming to a stop, “There is an art and beauty to firing a gun when you see a true gunslinger at work,”

Before them was the remains of a target field, only a handful of the old targets stading while others were sprawled on the ground. McCree looked over the mess with a tinge of nostalgia. He had often seen Morrison or Tracer or someone else with a gun out here giving a show for the tourists. Watching those gun shows though always took McCree back further than Overwatch and before he became and outlaw ,back to when he used to watch his uncle making a living off of pleasing the crowd with his gunmanship, the leading star of the traveling wild western show McCree had grown up in. 

He had followed in his uncle's footsteps, learning every trick there was in the book and by the age of nine he was part of the show with his uncle. Jessie McCree, the baddest little outlaw in the Santa Fe area swaggering around in a cowboy uniform next to his uncle. A pair right out of an old Western. The cowboy shook his head, fighting the urge to just grab a cigar at that small memory crept up. He supposed this whole place had a bad habit of pulling up memories since forgotten. 

McCree raised a hand, jerking a thumb at the dilapidated shooting range, “Competition is simple. I see about thirty targets still up and whoever hits the most down wins,” McCree pulled out his gun, skillfully twirling it around one hand with ease, “And since I'm a gentleman and believe in giving everyone a fair chance, you can go first,”

Hanzo gave a snort, drawing his bow from his back and carefully checking over the weapon, sliding his fingers against the bowstring, “It appears to me you are really looking to lose,”

“I haven't lost until the last target is down,” McCree responded, moving to take a seat on an old folding chair that had been left in the rush to clear the place out, the gun still spinning about his fingers before he grabbed the handle, bringing the dazzling display to a halt, “Your move first, Shimada,”

“You may call me Hanzo.I would rather that than to be referred to by a family name long dead to me,” Hanzo said curtly, lifting his bow and moving to take aim. 

If there was something to appreciate, it was damn sure just how much care the elder Shimada put into his art. McCree found the slow draw of the arrow and the slight tilt of Hanzo's head as if he was listening to the wind itself an impressive display. This wasn't an an amateur or even a master of his art. Hanzo looked a perfected masterpiece that was one with his bow, the weapon merely an extension of his being. 

Hanzo had a real appreciation for the weapon he used that was sorely lacking in this day and age in McCree's opinion. A real understanding of the tools of his trade that he clearly cared for. 

The release of the arrow was done in a split second, flying true through the base of one of the targets, sending it crashing to the ground. Slowly Hanzo lowered his bow, letting out a breath slowly through his nose, a heavy sigh as he turned to look at McCree, “Your turn,”

“One to zero and ball is in my court. Time to show what a master of guns can do then,” McCree rose to his feet, making his way leisurely to the starting point of their competition, twirling the gun in his hand as he squinted some in the low light. He took his time as there was no rush, calculating his shot before the gun came to a halt and without missing a beat, he fired his first shot. 

He struck his target in the flank sending it spinning as it fell and crashing into the target beside it, taking down both with a metallic crunch. McCree gave a chuckle, tipping his hat to Hanzo, “One to two,” 

There was a small smile on Hanzo's face as he gave a slight clap of his hands, “Impressive. You are not like most men I see who prefer guns. You take your time, plan your strategy,” Hanzo raised a hand to stroke his beard some, that smile still in place with a gleam of something in his eyes, a flare of excitement almost, clearly more than a little pleased to have an actual competition on his hands, “It seems I won't have to treat you with any bit of mercy,”

“There ain't no mercy here, Hanzo. I don't put kiddy gloves on for anyone. That isn't the type of gunslinger my uncle raised me to be,” McCree responded, giving a nod and a return smile as he took his seat. 

“So it was not your father who taught you? Curious,” Hanzo said as he pulled out an arrow, holding it up and examining it some.

McCree shook his head, finally caving in as he drew out a cigar, “My parents passed away when I was two. Far too young for me to remember either of them any,” He gave a small chuckle, his smile a touch sad, “Was told they were the best rodeo clowns the show had ever had. The McCrees could do it all and keep a show jumping,”

“Rodeo clowns?” Hanzo asked, his tone incredulous as he moved to draw his bow.

“That's right. Old Jesse McCree is the love child of rodeo clowns,” He gave a chuckle, shaking his head, “I grew up in a Wild West show, just something to make people in the cities and the like feel like cowboys were real and he entire West was still as wild as ever. Bull riding, horse jumping, gunslinging, you name it. I trained under my Uncle to be his replacement when he retired from the show life. Would drag me out every morning to do nothing but practice shooting and learn gun tricks. Most of my youth was spent traveling around New Mexico, Colorado, and Arizona for the show before becoming a fixture in it while I was just leaving boyhood,”

“Not the past I would attribute to you,” Hanzo responded letting the arrow fly. It cut through another target's base before ricocheting off another target to cut into another, sending two targets to the ground, “And the score is now three to two,”

 

McCree gave a clap of his hands in response, grinning as a trail of smoke lazily flitted up from the end of his cigar, “Not bad at all. Giving me a run for my money,”

The cowboy rose to his feet, tilting up his hat as he moved back to take his turn, resting his gun against his shoulder as he surveyed the targets, “And I get that a lot when people find out. I guess they all assume something grander or that my family were all drunk ranchers herding buffalo or something,”

He took a long drag from cigar, blowing out a cloud of smoke before dropping it to the ground, stomping it out before taking his shout. With a crash, two more targets fell to the ground, “So what's your family situation other than Genji being the younger brother,”

The question had Hanzo tensing again, his shoulders hunching up some as he drew another arrow, a little quicker than before, “Normal. A mother, a father, and a brother. Grandparents on both sides,” Hanzo answered, his answer short and McCree was surprised to hear an edge of defensiveness. 

Either Genji and him were really at odds, the bounty hunter surmised, or there was something else there. 

“So if you are sticking around here because Genji is here, why do you keep saying you are going to leave?” McCree asked, crossing his arms as he watched the archer line up his next shot. 

“I am not staying here because of Genji. The Genji here is not my brother, not the man I remembered,” Hanzo answered shortly, letting the arrow fly. He frowned some as only one target fell, giving a slight sneer of dissatisfaction at the shot. 

McCree gave a slight chuckle, “People change, especially when overcoming things in life. Did you expect your brother to remain the same? What is really bothering you about Genji's change?” the cowboy drawled, lining up his shot, taking down two more targets. 

There was no response from Hanzo as he watched the two targets fall, his grip on his bow tightening some. The archer let out a deep sigh, glancing away, a scowl spreading across his face, “He acts like our father,” he finally said.

That earned a surprised look from McCree, the cowboy arching an eyebrow as he flicked up the brim of his hat, “Didn't get along with your father then?”

Hanzo's gaze softened some as he shook his head, “It is.... complicated,” the archer raised his bow, taking his shot. Two targets down.

McCree was silent for a moment regarding the elder Shimada. All his life, McCree had been around broken men. His uncle, the other workers at the show, the drunks at the bars he used to haunt, the people in his gang desperate for a change of fortunes, and even in Blackwatch, the lineage of broken men continued. He had seen his own mentor break and crumble, going from a confident commander to a bitter, nearly mad lunatic lost in his own conspiracies and mistrusts, no longer able to tell friend from foe. Hanzo fit in with all of them, the distant look, the regret that clung to every muscle, and the secrets locked so tight in him McCree doubted anyone knew or could gleam what he might be carrying in his heart. 

The bounty closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before eyeing the remaining targets. He needed nine to win. 

Standing like this, staring down so many targets with such a large amount to get to win brought another memory to the surface, one caked in a baking sun, squinting at the targets set up in the burning desert of New Mexico under a noon sky. His uncle standing at his side smoking casually, age having creased the corners of his eyes in worn wrinkles like broken, dry mud, watching him. That gravelly Western slur to his accent as he spoke, “When you got to win boy, you can't show mercy. Sometimes people got to take a defeat if they want to get any better in life. Sometimes you got to break something all over again before you can build it up,” he had said, pulling the cigar from his mouth, “Don't be afraid to pull the trigger,”

McCree could feel the noon sky now even in the dead of night and live in that memory. The heat and haze sweltering about him, absolute silence engulfing him as he locked onto each target, calculating the shot he needed. 

Never be afraid the pull the trigger. When high noon hit, there was only the shot needed.

The single shot rang out, hitting a target and sending it spinning, colliding into the one beside,sending it flying while the bullet itself pinged off another target, knocking over a stack of old scrap metal, sending the whole mess falling over most of the remaining targets in an avalanche of junk. Hanzo stood staring, eyes wide in obvious shock as McCree just grinned wide,spinning his gun and holstering it before turning to the archer, “And that, my friend, is match,”

“You are... most impressive,” Hanzo murmured, shaking his head, “It was not a strategy I considered to win the match,”

“Personally I think you are distracted or else you would have had me really sweating for a win,” McCree moved to take a seat, gesturing to another of the empty chairs, “But now that I've won, time to collect the prize. What is it you really think about your family. I reckon you have something heavy on the heart,”

Hanzo was quiet, looking at the chair before slowly sinking into it, setting his bow to the side. He didn't make eye contact with the cowboy, frowning as he looked to the practically demolished shooting area, “There is a burden I carry but to share it with anyone, especially a stranger...” his voice trailed off as he gave a slight shake of his head. 

“Not like I'm going to tell anyone. What is said here, I'll keep it between us. Give you my word,” McCree pulled out another cigar, lighting it up as he sat back, “But you can either keep lurking around, not talking to your brother, sharing looks between the two of you like you want to say something but literally shooting yourself in the foot not to or get it off your chest,”

The archer raised a hand to trace over the dragon tattoo on his shoulder, closing his eyes, “This is not something I have told anyone. It is something even the clan did not know entirely, at least not confirmed beyond whispered rumors, and it is something that I have never even told Genji although of all those who should have known what I have to say...” again he trailed off. 

McCree kept silent, patiently waiting for Hanzo to speak again, watching a flurry of emotions pass over the elder Shimada's face, everything from regret to hate to fear to sadness. A cacophony of conflicting emotions before he let out a sigh, folding his hands loosely and staring at the ground. 

“I suppose it starts with a story of two brothers. The elder, in time, did as was required of his clan and married a beautiful woman of another powerful clan, sealing a marriage alliance between the two families. Arranged, yes, but they were also deeply in love,” Hanzo murmured, “His sudden death left behind a devastated widow and an alliance between two clans in jeopardy. At the urging of both clans, the younger brother married his brother's widow,”

Hanzo's eyes narrowed, his lips a thin line as he continued to stare at the ground as he told his story, “The widow bore a son and it was declared the child of the younger brother, his first born and heir. This, however was a lie,” Hanzo took a deep breath, the next sentence coming out barely above a whisper, “ The widow left behind had been two months pregnant with the elder brother's child,” 

McCree stiffened as his suspicions of where this was going were roused, watching as Hanzo's hands tightened against one another but he did not interrupt. Hanzo flicked his gaze towards his bow, “She gave birth, the clan celebrated and the younger brother claimed the boy born as his own. He was not expecting there to ever be a child conceived between him and his new wife as neither held affections for each other but loneliness can be a cruel companion. Three years later, another son was born to the surprise of everyone and everything became....” Hanzo closed his eyes going silent.

That silence stretched on and on, punctuated only by the sound of the wind ruffling the foliage and the slow music of the insects in the fading day. McCree blew out a cloud of smoke,finally speaking up, “So, you and Genji are-”

“We share only the same mother,but not the same father. The man I called father all my life and sought to impress and live up to was my uncle. Genji is his only child and he dotted upon him greatly and it was his sincerest wish that Genji would prove himself worthy to rule the clan. He pushed for it constantly, for us to rule as one. My mother was of a different opinion,” Hanzo gave a bitter smile, “I was the child she wanted to succeed. Genji... she really did not treat him well and it was the reason we grew so apart, my mother and I. I could not stand how she always ignored him, belittled him,” he heaved a sigh, “She was always so intentionally cruel in her words when all he wanted was her love. I don't ever recall her actually giving him a kind word,” 

“You took care of your brother a lot I suppose?” McCree asked, leaning back in his seat. 

Hanzo gave a nod, “Always. I looked out for him in school, fought with our mother, and practically was raising him by the time I was five years old, but in the end, I have had my mother's affections and love, but Genji always had father's eyes and I never knew why. He would give a nod of praise but compared to when Genji did something, I was the one who received the cold shoulder,” 

 

The archer glanced up, staring off across the grounds at nothing in particular “I would not have ever known the truth and sometimes I wish I did not. On her deathbed, my mother told me everything. A family secret she wished me to know. I never told anyone, not even Genji what I learned that terrible night,”

McCree gave a small nod, brow furrowed, “But you became the clan head after your father died?”

“Against the dying wish of my father,” Hanzo glanced up, giving another bitter smile, “I took the title and claimed I had ever intention of ruling as equals with my brother, as he wanted, but I was... bitter. I knew the truth and that seemed all the proof I needed that I was never the one who was meant to rule and was the unwanted child and despite my better credentials, he only wanted us to rule together to satisfy his own desires for a true blood son to rule . At his funeral, I stood not beside a brother, but a rival in my mind. Genji was no longer my brother in my mind's eye,” The bitter smile grew more sorrowful as Hanzo dropped his gaze to the ground, “I am ashamed of that ...jealousy I felt, that anger towards my brother when he did not even know why I had turned on him. I became too much like my mother in my bitterness,”

The pain was clear in Hanzo's smile as he continued to stare at his hands his voice becoming thicker with emotions that had built up over so many years, “I was angry, foolish, and wanted only to build an empire greater than that of the past. I pushed myself in every way to be seen as the greatest leader and let my brother wallow. I could have interfered sooner to keep him out of his lifestyle choices but I didn't. I intentionally sabotaged him to be the unworthy looking son and then....then....” His voice faltered as he raised a hand to his face, covering it as he took a deep breath, trying to hold back the rush of emotion that was breaking through his stone mask.

“Then they asked me to kill him. He was a liability. He was too public a face for the clan and the idea of him ruling anything as our father had wished put all on edge. If Genji were dead, we were not dishonoring my father's wishes,” Hanzo looked up at McCree then, “I did not hesitate in agreeing with them. I passed judgment and sentenced him to death for personal gain,because of a single secret that shouldn't have matter at all. He was...is my brother in heart even if my mind has skewed that feeling so viciously,”

McCree didn't know what to say or do honestly. This sort of emotional baggage wasn't what he expected to be dealing with but it was clear enough Hanzo was breaking while trying to keep together. The cowboy took a long drag from his cigar blowing out a cloud of smoke with a sigh before dropping the nearly finished cigar to the ground, “You were young, ambitious, and just had your world shattered. You weren't in your right mind to be taking the clan head,”

“I wish I could agree with you. I thought him dead and the guilt nearly destroyed me but seeing him alive, seeing him as he is now, so like our father, so like everything he hoped Genji would become,” Hanzo gritted his teeth some, “I can't face him. I have wronged my brother in too many ways and let my own ambitions and anger destroy everything we had and I do not deserve his forgiveness and I do not deserve the honor of calling a man far greater and stronger than myself brother,”

Hanzo's shoulders were shaking some. He was broken by the past. Broken by the lie he grew up on and the duties he wanted to inherit to impress a father that had always favored the younger son. The child that was of his blood. A brotherhood that was forged in their youth, something powerful that was ripped apart by family secrets and politics. Ripped apart, but not beyond mending. 

McCree rose to his feet, coming over to Hanzo's side, clapping a hand on Hanzo's back, earning a surprised grunt from the man.

“Well, I am not one who is good at comfort, that is for sure,”McCree murmured, “but one thing is for sure, different fathers or not, you two are brothers. You still are brothers and if anything, if you really want to make amends for the past Hanzo, you got to stop with the family secrets that broke you two apart in the first place and let Genji be the judge of it all,”

A look of anger flitted over Hanzo's face as he turned away, “I cannot tell him. What good would knowing that do now other than sound like I am trying to make excuses for my actions? I do not want to be forgiven. I do not want to have any excuses! I harmed my brother, I destroyed him, and there is nothing that can be said that can take away from the fact I made the choices to harm him intentionally and with ill intent. I will not return to his life and cause him more destruction. Not again,”

“You still are destroying him,” McCree's words made Hanzo look up sharply into the solemn look of the cowboy, “True Genji's a lot better than he used to be Hanzo, but partner, he still needs family. He still needs his brother to look out for him. He still needs you and if you are going to keep being distant and skulking around, then you are just repeating all your past mistakes again. He came back to you, revealed he was alive. He could have kept you in the dark about being alive but no, he reached out. He reached out because he wants and needs you back in his life,”

The archer rose quickly to his feet, hands balled into fists looking like he might strike McCree, teeth gritted as he trembled before looking away,”And you think just talking can fix that? Can fix years of the crimes I have committed against him for things he could not control?”

“Words are powerful Hanzo, more powerful than a bullet and tend to stick around a lot more than a bullet wound,” he reached out to grip Hanzo by the shoulder, “You got to forgive yourself. Genji already has. You are sticking around because, like it or not, you are still his brother and deep down, you still look out for him. Deep down that bond is still as strong as ever only now?” McCree gave a small smile, “There is no clan or politics weighing you down telling you how to treat him. There is nothing stopping you from being his brother but your own selfish desire to be punished,”

Hanzo stood staring at McCree, his eyes widening just a bit as if the cowboy had said something entirely new, something that had not occurred to him. Slowly the archer looked down at his bow on the ground, reaching down to pick it up. He examined it closely for a moment before speaking again,”Do you think it is possible then?”

“Reyes always told me nothing was impossible, just improbable,”McCree gave a chuckle, slinging an arm about Hanzo, “And you are with Overwatch now and we tend to make everything possible or give hell trying,”

A small smile curled Hanzo's lip as he traced his fingers over the bow, “Maybe. Maybe this is true,” He glanced to McCree, “Perhaps.... I will talk to Genji. When I feel I can actually face him. Things are still … difficult to come to terms with and I may have been far too harsh with him still,” 

“Take your time. Better to have a real serious talk than some shouted words in the hallway,”McCree suggested, glancing towards the base, “And in the mean time, you can always talk with me or the others and we will treat you like some estranged uncle. Before you know it, you'll be feeling like you just adopted an extended international family,”

Hanzo gave a small chuckle, sliding his bow over one shoulder. He looked thoughtful for a moment before giving a slight nudge to the cowboy, “We shall see, but in the meantime,I think, if there is a place, I want a rematch of our competition. I know what question I want to ask you now,”

“Oh?”McCree arched an eyebrow giving a sly grin, “And what would that be?”

“Why did you do all of this in the first place?” Hanzo responded, crossing his arms.

McCree gave a wider grin, pulling the brim of his hat down as he stepped away from the man, “Well, I'll give you that one for free so you can spend your questions more wisely. Reinhardt asked me to at first but then,well,” The cowboy looked over his shoulders giving a sly wink, “You aren't too bad a looker on the eyes and got an appreciation for your weapons that rubs me in all the right places,” 

The look of surprise on Hanzo's face had the cowboy chuckling to himself as he turned away and headed into the base. Honestly it looked to McCree like the poor man had never had anyone compliment him like that in all his life. He looked so flustered and out of his element.

A sudden hand on his shoulder, roughly turning him around though put McCree off balance some. He turned towards the archer, quirking an eyebrow. Hanzo just glowered at him, still a faint trace of red on his cheeks as he stared at McCree, “You,” He began, his words coming out harsh, “You are infuriating but I will admit, for a user of guns, you are exceptionally skilled and perhaps....passingly attractive,”

“Passingly attractive?” McCree echoed but his question went unanswered as Hanzo quickly walked by shoulders tensed and muttering something in Japanese as he left. Or fled. McCree felt it was more fleeing with dignity and trying to have the last word. In McCree's book, that was still a victory.

McCree gave a faint chuckle,shaking his head.

Maybe this was one friendship that wouldn't be so quick to move along out the revolving door.


End file.
